Hello loves! While I haven't been writing, I have been working on updating some issues that have been hanging around on the layout! The Character change box is now at the bottom of the page, beside the up/down arrows! Green and Gold dragon flight dates have been shifted to the bottom of the page, where the (useless!) discord widget was located. Where the dragon flights were in the header, is now replaced by a Monthly Event box! This will be updated at the start of each month, with a fun mini-event you can take part in, if you want to! Thistle!
08.Apr.12, 04:53 AM
Six miserable days, and no sooner to a solution.
S'kef set his jaw against his pounding headache. He was in his own room in the infirmary, laying rigidly on his back while he waited on a healer to bring him his medicine. It was a troubling situation; what began as a simple fever had quickly developed into something much worse.
He'd ignored it at first. After all, he was a busy man. Like every other problem in his life, he ignored it. After several days of worsening symptoms, he'd visited the Healer Hall only to have some idiot apprentice give him something to help him sleep and the dubious advice to 'sweat it out'. Of course, it hadn't seemed like such a bad idea right away. He had no reason to think his condition was actually serious. People got fevers all the time...
Then, without warning, he couldn't stand up anymore.
Tyrrisath's nerves had been shot for the remainder of the day after that. S'kef could remember it only distantly, how he'd walked into his kitchen and been overwhelmed by a sudden surge of dizziness. Off-balance and confused, he'd clutched at his kitchen table and cringed as he felt a wave of heat rush over him, even though his skin was covered in cold sweat.
Then, he'd passed out...but not before vomiting all over his kitchen table and the front of his shirt.
Tyrrisath was a good dragon. He'd broken his own habits and called out for help, quickly rousing the attention of the weyrfolk. S'kef was safely to the infirmary in short order, but his condition hardly seemed extraordinary at first. A fever, vomiting, and fainting...could be anything, they said. Even just the heat.
Six days were spent treating his symptoms alone. He didn't feel better. In fact, he felt worse. It was hard for him to sit up in bed without getting dizzy, much less stand up and walk around. Ashamed of his condition and not wanting to be a burden on the Weyrleader, S'kef had sent a letter to D'ren requesting leave. D'ren had granted it, and even promised that S'kef would have his position returned to him when he recovered.
If he recovered. That was what the healers were saying.
S'kef was determined to make it. What troubled him was the lack of a dedicated healer to watch after him; he knew Katila was in possession of a Master, but that boy was spending a lot of his time with the ill gold weyrling Jada. That was fine with S'kef; Jada was more important than he was. But shards, would it kill them to send someone?
D'ren had told him just that morning that another skilled healer had been assigned his case. Well, where the shards was this illusive healer? Sure, there were plenty in the Weyr who outright despised the suspended Weyrsecond, especially after recent events...But this was getting ridiculous. S'kef wondered with distant amusement if they were taking their time hoping he would die. Perhaps B'jin had paid them off? Hah.
S'kef's frustration was swimming around jut below the surface, accompanied by a stubborn refusal to die. Suck it, greenriders.
S'kef set his jaw against his pounding headache. He was in his own room in the infirmary, laying rigidly on his back while he waited on a healer to bring him his medicine. It was a troubling situation; what began as a simple fever had quickly developed into something much worse.
He'd ignored it at first. After all, he was a busy man. Like every other problem in his life, he ignored it. After several days of worsening symptoms, he'd visited the Healer Hall only to have some idiot apprentice give him something to help him sleep and the dubious advice to 'sweat it out'. Of course, it hadn't seemed like such a bad idea right away. He had no reason to think his condition was actually serious. People got fevers all the time...
Then, without warning, he couldn't stand up anymore.
Tyrrisath's nerves had been shot for the remainder of the day after that. S'kef could remember it only distantly, how he'd walked into his kitchen and been overwhelmed by a sudden surge of dizziness. Off-balance and confused, he'd clutched at his kitchen table and cringed as he felt a wave of heat rush over him, even though his skin was covered in cold sweat.
Then, he'd passed out...but not before vomiting all over his kitchen table and the front of his shirt.
Tyrrisath was a good dragon. He'd broken his own habits and called out for help, quickly rousing the attention of the weyrfolk. S'kef was safely to the infirmary in short order, but his condition hardly seemed extraordinary at first. A fever, vomiting, and fainting...could be anything, they said. Even just the heat.
Six days were spent treating his symptoms alone. He didn't feel better. In fact, he felt worse. It was hard for him to sit up in bed without getting dizzy, much less stand up and walk around. Ashamed of his condition and not wanting to be a burden on the Weyrleader, S'kef had sent a letter to D'ren requesting leave. D'ren had granted it, and even promised that S'kef would have his position returned to him when he recovered.
If he recovered. That was what the healers were saying.
S'kef was determined to make it. What troubled him was the lack of a dedicated healer to watch after him; he knew Katila was in possession of a Master, but that boy was spending a lot of his time with the ill gold weyrling Jada. That was fine with S'kef; Jada was more important than he was. But shards, would it kill them to send someone?
D'ren had told him just that morning that another skilled healer had been assigned his case. Well, where the shards was this illusive healer? Sure, there were plenty in the Weyr who outright despised the suspended Weyrsecond, especially after recent events...But this was getting ridiculous. S'kef wondered with distant amusement if they were taking their time hoping he would die. Perhaps B'jin had paid them off? Hah.
S'kef's frustration was swimming around jut below the surface, accompanied by a stubborn refusal to die. Suck it, greenriders.
